


the cup of alligator's blood.

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Child Abuse, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Luke is Carver's son AU/HC, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "he held my head and made me watchfilled my mouth up with its blood and said“grow up weakorgrow up tough”"14 years later, Luke still feels it running down his throat.





	the cup of alligator's blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Alligator Blood by Nicole Dollanganger.

_the cup of alligator’s blood._

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon, now, Luke.” A large hand firmly gripped at the 13 year old's shoulder, nails digging deep. Luke would flinch, but he knows what it would entail if he did. “Drink it. You want to be strong, right?”

  
A glass of the thick, tar black liquid stood on the table in front of him. In the right light, it had a sickly red tint to it-- And Luke isn't sure he can stomach just the concept of drinking it. The heavy scent of copper wafted from it to his nose. He tries not to gag. He tries not to move.

  
Most boys in his town came into their manhood in ways less drastic than this. In a manner of which that wouldn't entail choking down the blood of an alligator.

  
He swallowed nervously, and gulps almost too loudly. Sweat beads at his temples and falls.

  
Luke doesn't want this.

  
“Pa..” He breathed. “P-P-Please, P-Pa.”

  
A firm hand grips at his jaw, and his father jerks the boy’s head to face him. His father was an ugly creature. Luke looked barely like him, which he was always grateful for. He looked just like his Momma, which he wasn't so grateful for.

  
“That stupid stutter is back.” His father clicked his tongue. “Thought the last lesson I taught you got rid of it.”

  
Luke felt his jaw tense, his teeth chattering anxiously.

_Oh god. Oh god._

  
“I-I-It did p-pa...” Luke shook.

  
His father smirked in that smug manner that told Luke he was in for it bad tonight. Tears welled in his eyes.

“P-Pa-”

  
A hand flies across his face.

  
_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

  
“What did I tell you, Luke?” He snarled. “Who am I to you?”

  
Luke is almost too panicked to answer. “Bill.”

  
“ _Good_.” His father brushed the long brown locks out of Luke’s face in a manner that’s much too gentle. “Good... at least you can say something without that godawful stutter.”

  
The hands on him pull away. Luke is left shaking in his seat.

  
“Now, drink the blood. You’re 13 today, right?”

  
“R-Right, Bill.”

  
“And you want to be a good, strong, brave fighter like your old man, right?” Bill’s hands move to massage Luke’s shoulders. The skin screams underneath. “You want to be a _survivor_ , right?”

  
Bill’s hands aren't kind. They're not fatherly. As they move down both of his arms to squeeze longingly at his forearms, Luke knows where this all will lead-- regardless of whether or not he swallows the blood down.

  
“ _Right_?”

  
“R-Right, Bill.”

  
“Then drink the fuckin’ blood, Luke.” He hissed. “You don't want to make me more mad than I am now, right?”

  
“N-No, Sir...” He reached out to the glass, feeling bile crawl up his throat as he touched the glass.

Cold. It was cold. Luke picked it up and noted how heavy it was in his hand. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep vomit from making its way out.

  
With a deep breath, Luke begins to drink the alligator’s blood. He tastes the iron, the clots, the copper, the chill as the the thick liquid runs over his tongue and down his throat.

  
He thinks he can keep it down.

  
He thinks.

  
But, after a moment of drinking, it all comes back up.

  
Blood shoots out his nose and out his mouth, splattering on the table and down his white shirt. The glass drops from his hands and shatters on the floor, and everything he's ever eaten spills out from his clenched belly.

  
It's a mess he knows he could never clean.

  
Luke is hunched over as he gags and heaves up the red contents of his stomach all over his lap and the floor. The hands on his arms are gone.

  
He cries after his puking ceases, and his body shakes hard. A fist swings to his cheek and connects with the bone.

  
The chill of the blood, the copper, the clots-- he can still feel it in him. Even through the white hot agony.

Even 14 years later.

...

 

Today he is 27 years old.

Carver’s entourage drags him into his office, throws his weak and panicked form onto the floor. Luke looks around with wide eyes, shaking hard.

  
The familiar click of a tongue fills the air.

  
“All survivor, no guilt.” His father breathed. “I tried to raise you right, Luke. I really did.” A heel presses between his shoulder blades and Luke bites back a fearful cry. “It's sad that you're just another lamb I couldn't herd. But,” The heel presses in before dragging down his spine. “You know I draw the line when you lead all my little sheep out into the woods for the wolves to eat.”

  
Luke doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't breath.

  
“I should have known that you would turn out this way, Luke.”

The boot heel stops at Luke’s tailbone. Carver massages slow circles into his skin and Luke closes his eyes shut tight.

  
Flashbacks of a half-repressed childhood hit him like a train then.

  
“I should have known you'd be another cowardly lamb, Luke. The moment you threw that blood all up.” He chuckled and pulled his foot away. “Couldn't swallow it down. You were never good at that, were you?” His father laughed and walked towards his desk. He takes something from there and walks back. He places a glass in front of Luke’s face.

  
Cold, copper scented, clotted blood fills a tall glass in front of him.

  
“You’re 27 today, aren't you?” Carver grinned and crouched by his side. “I'll give you another chance to be a good boy, and swallow all the blood you puked that day. If you do? I'll give you your manhood back.” A hand brushes the brown locks from Luke’s clammy forehead. “I’ll be a little nicer to you in my punishment if you can down it all.”

  
And Luke swallowed nervously, and gulps almost too loudly. Sweat beads at his temples and falls onto the floor under him.

  
Luke doesn't want this.

  
But this isn't Luke’s choice anymore.

  
Carver turns him over and pins him down. Luke is too weak from hunger, thirst, and sleep deprivation to fight back.

  
“ _Now_ ,” Carver hissed, bringing the cup up. “Open wide.”

  
Luke shook his head, mind dizzy with panic.

  
“P-P-P-P-Please.” Luke shivers. “P-P-Pa...”

  
Carver smirked in the old way that made Luke want to cry.

  
“You still have that ugly little stutter.” He sighed. “Seems like it’s just another thing I couldn't fuck out of you.”

  
Luke closed his mouth tightly as the glass drew near.

  
Carver sighed and pinched Luke’s nose, cutting off air. It doesn't take long for Luke to gasp out for breath.

  
The contents of the glass pours into the opened orifice.

  
Luke chokes on it all and drowns in cold clots and the blood of an Alligator.

  
This time he tries not to puke.


End file.
